Homeward bound
by Angelmoo1
Summary: Slight AU set around the beginning of season four at the prison. Mostly cannon with a couple of changes. Rick, Daryl and Glen rescue a woman and bring her back to the prison. Rated M for mature content, swearing, violence and rape. Daryl/OC, Rick, Glenn/Maggie, Michonne, Hershel and most of the crew.
1. I won't belong to anyone, anymore

Hello! I am new to TWD and have been hooked watching the series back to back since I was recommended them by a good friend. I have of course already fallen in love with Daryl, hated Shane throughout, wanted to smack Lori and Carl around a couple of times and been frustrated when Andrea was stupid enough to be all girly and not kill the Governor when she had the chance! Michone, Daryl and Hershel rule!

Thought I would give it a go - hope you enjoy it x

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters etc for Walking Dead - this is just for fun no profit!

Story: Slightly AU - set around the third season based at the prison. Mostly true to cannon with a couple of tweeks here and there.

Daryl, Rick and Glen rescue a woman who has been held captive by a group of men for the last six months and try to integrate her into their group. Rated M overall for swearing, rape, usual WD kind of gore and possibly sexual content.

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Charlotte Smythe ran faster than she had ever run in her entire life. Her lungs burned fire, fighting each breath she took as she pounded through the forest. The floor was slippery with autumn leaf mulch from the dewy morning but her bare feet landed true and sure, with her desperate need to survive. She threw a prayer up to a higher being that she had never believed in before to give her a chance, a break, anything.

She would have rejoiced smelling the sweet fresh air after being locked in the musty basement of the old farmhouse for the last six months had it not been for the large bear of a man running after her with irrepressible fury. She could hear him grunting and swearing behind her, his laboured breath ragged but she knew that he wouldn't stop. He could run for another ten minutes flat out on pure vengeance and hate after he had discovered what she had done, after she had murdered her captors, men that had been his friends, his brothers.

The shackles that were clamped around her wrists and neck burned against her already torn skin, dried blood crusted gathered under the unforgiving metal. She held onto the chains attached to her wrists, clutching onto them to make sure that her running movement didn't cause them to swing erratically throwing her balance. The short chain hanging down behind her thumped against her back in time with her gait, like a strange metronome against her erratically beating heart.

She had had a choice at the farmhouse; to bolt and pray she ran fast enough to get away or to stand and fight Zeke, the six foot three, two hundred pound goliath with only a small, blood covered hunting knife. Her adrenaline coursed through her veins as she powered on, only hoping that if she couldn't pull away from him she could at least keep him from gaining on her.

She turned out of the forest and almost fell as she clambered up the slight embankment to the highway, only righting her feet momentarily but cursing as she lost a couple of precious seconds. She sprinted a little more surefooted on the concrete not caring which direction she was going as she listened to his heavy boots pounding behind her, to her dismay a lot closer than before.

She glanced up at the skyline, seeing the sky for the first time in what felt like forever made her almost stop dead in wonder. She felt for the first time in months the sunshine on her face, the first cold rays of the morning sun crowning over the treeline was the most beautiful thing she had seen in what felt like an eternity.

In that moment her body gave up, the adrenaline ran out and even her fear could no longer drive her. She felt her muscles in her calves and thighs start to seize up, her lungs started to convulse as she fought the need to cough. She was lightheaded, her pulse banging in her ears until it drowned out every other sound. Her sheer will alone was not enough in those precious seconds to push her further. She knew it was over. That he would catch her and he would kill her. Or worse, he would keep her alive and her torture was just about to begin.

She screamed out in a strangled, desperate yell, her hands flying to her neck as her head snapped back painfully from the sudden force behind her. He had desperately leant forward, sensing her body giving up and reached for the chain around her neck. His hand had managed to clasp the chain and he had stopped dead. Pulling back he had swept her down forcefully, her feet almost leaving the ground with the sudden downward surge and landing on the hard concrete. She fought to breathe, the impact having winded her, when she felt him kneel in front of her and push her legs roughly apart planting himself close to her.

She heard the first crack before she felt a shot of pain cascading down the left side of her face. Her head snapped sideways with the force of the impact and she gasped in shock as she tasted the metallic tang of blood in the back of her throat. She was vaguely aware of him shouting, each swear word being punctuated with another slap until she could feel her skin splitting and burning. She feebly tried to push him away raising her arms to protect herself when she heard a soft woosh, a resounding thunk and a scream of pain from above her. She felt him push from her yelling obscenities at something above and beyond her head, she fell backwards from the lack of strength to lie on her back on the cool asphalt, thankful for the respite in her beating.

"Git the hell away from her, yer fuckin' son of a bitch," A deep voice growled somewhere above her just as she passed out.

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Glen yawned loudly once more stretching his lean limbs above his head, as he cracked his neck.

"Keep yawnin' like tha' short round ya ain't ever gonna catch nothin', ya'll scare it away first." Daryl muttered to his Korean friend, his eyes narrowed in the early dawn light, his keen sense of hearing alert for the scuffles of animals in the undergrowth.

"Remind me again why we have to go hunting at dawn? Why not after breakfast?" He grumbled trying to stifle another yawn.

Rick ducked his head to hide the grin that played across his face as he traipsed through the leaves. The decision to learn how to hunt had been decided yesterday morning at their group meeting. Daryl had nearly been overpowered by a couple of walkers the other night whilst on hunting patrol after his crossbow had misfired and he had been winded. On reflection after the shock of nearly losing their friend had dissipated they had also realised that they would lose one of their best protectors and their only supply of meat would abruptly stop. He had agreed, albeit a little reluctantly, to take small groups out to teach them how to set snares and hunt with a crossbow.

Daryl abruptly stopped and cocked his head to the side, holding his hand out to simultaneously stop them and quiet them as well. The three men stood still, holding their breath trying to catch the sound that had just alerted the hunter. They frowned at each other as they picked it up, very faintly coming from the end of the treeline a hundred yards away.

They stealthily moved around the trees, each with their weapons trained towards the sound and straining to hear more. They all exchanged looks as they realised that it was footfalls, of someone running fast, very fast. Rick and Daryl looked at each other, a silent conversation and decision made in the eye contact. It was probably someone running away from a herd. They both started to move away simultaneously but stopped when Glen threw out his hand frowning at the image in front of him. He flicked his head towards them, " Are you seeing what I am seeing?" He mouthed.

They all watched in grim horror as a scantily clad woman ran down the middle of road towards them with a look of pure terror on her face being pursued by a large man that moved faster than his weight should allow. The brutal way in which he dragged her to the ground and beat her snapped them out of their reverie into action. Daryl raised his crossbow and shot the man in the lower back causing him to let go of the woman who fell limply to the floor. He reared back screaming in pain and shock. As he managed to right himself in an ungainly, disjointed way they circled in front of him all three pointing their weapons at his head.

"Git the hell away from her, yer fuckin' son of a bitch," Daryl growled at him, his steel blue eyes flashing dangerously. He sneered in disgust as the man whimpered standing upright, and staggering a little he stepped away from her. Rick was staring at her, his jaw working as he ground his teeth together in barely controlled anger trying to restrain himself from killing the man with his bare hands. This woman looked like she had been through hell and back.

"She killed my friends!" He shouted in defence to their cold glares, moaning at the pain of the bolt in his back, his breath laboured and sweat pouring off of him. He glanced down at the wretched figure on the floor with pure hatred stamped across his dog like face. None of them reacted to his statement, still staring at him in murderous outrage over the muzzles of their weapons.

Suddenly she reared up from the floor coughing and spluttering blood that had started flowing down her throat, gulping for air. Glen ducked down to her to help her sit up, but she recoiled from him staggering as she unsteadily made it her feet. She quickly scanned the floor panic overtaking her as she desperately looked for the small hunting knife that had fallen from the belt of her skirt when he had grabbed her. A wave of relief almost made her giddy as her dark blue eyes found it, she nearly lost her balance ducking down to grab it and turned to face the strange group of men.

She held the knife out defensively in front of her, blood and spittle flying out of her mouth in a soft mist and down her chin as she tried to regulate her erratic breathing. The men all watched her in spite of themselves lowering their weapons, as she tried to pull the last reserves of her strength to fight. Her eyes roamed over them in turn trying to assess the threat of these new men. The men saw after a second her shoulders slump ever so slightly, a look of defeated resolve cross her face as her inflamed lip quivered involuntarily. Tears burned the corners of her eyes when she realised she was outmatched with just her puny knife. There was no way she would be able to fight her way out.

They stared at her swaying on her feet, pity intermingled with grim revulsion mirrored on each of their faces. Her face was quickly swelling from the beating she had received, strands of her wild dark hair were stuck in the sticky mixture of her blood, sweat and spittle across her face. She was wearing only what had once been a lacy pink bra and French cut knickers set, and a small black slip skirt which barley made past the tops of her thighs. She had shackles on her wrists and a large metal band around her neck with chains and small padlocks attached to them, claw like scratches all over her calves and bare feet where she had run through bushes in the forest unchecked. They all in turn grimaced and looked away as they saw the dry blood that ran down the inside of her thighs to her calves, her once pretty pink lacy underwear blood stained.

A piteous groan broke the silence as her captor fell to one knee, convulsing in pain. In that second Charlotte's resolve snapped, she didn't care anymore if these men had intentions of killing her or capturing her to do exactly what she had fought so hard to get away from. All she knew was that she had to take Zeke out. This man, this leader of a group of the most hardened, moral deprived arseholes she had the displeasure to run into could not live. He was the worst one out of the five men who had raped her, molested her and abused her in every degrading manner. Maybe he would die from his wounds slowly or worse, maybe in a show of brotherhood they would let him live. This was an option that she had to take away at whatever cost. She was now prepared to die on this highway. But only on the condition that she took this scum bag wanker out first.

In one last surge of strength, she clenched her jaw ignoring the pain that pulsed through her temples and let out a low, guttural growl. She rushed at him, the men all stepping back into their defensive positions swinging their weapons to shoulder level in a second but they saw in an instant that her eyes were fixated only for the man between them on his knees. In a blind rage she covered the couple of yards that separated them, raising the knife above her head and swung with all the strength she could muster. He raised his arms in defence, a useless gesture as the sharp knife sliced through the air and partially severed his neck. His hands flew to the gushing slit in his throat, the knife having neatly severed the windpipe and all the arteries. He looked at her in shock as death quickly misted his eyes over and took him backwards to the cold asphalt. All the venom and hatred raging in her veins spurred her on, as her body fell forwards with his corpse until she was kneeling on top of him, she raised her knife and repeatedly plunged it into his head, venting a low scream of frustration, pain and animal hatred.

Soon she was covered in more blood splatters and splinters of bone chips across her exposed mid rift, as a wave of exhaustion hit her, she sagged slightly her body finally giving up. Sitting back on her hunches, kneeling over the pulverised body of her former captor, she momentarily let her head drop back looking at the eggshell blue sky in relief. As she gasped for air in her exhaustion, the release caused a surge of laughter to bubble up inside her, and small hysterical giggle escaped her. She clapped her hand over her mouth at its inappropriateness but shrugged to herself as she fought, and failed, to supress the next one.

She barely noticed the men who stood back from her, their weapons lowered slightly but still cautiously armed and watching her with apprehension for sudden movements. With a new sense of purpose she stood with the knife clutched in her bloodied hands the chains dragging on the floor clanging ominously in the quiet morning air. She looked them over holding each of their gaze for a couple of seconds, with her heart hammering in her chest she slowly started to turn away. She was going to take a risk turning her back on them and hope that their wary countenance would be enough for her to walk away before they recovered from their initial shock.

"Wait," Rick called out to her, taking a small step towards her holstering his weapon but pausing as she turned her swollen eyes to him. "Please don't go, we can help you." He told her gently and grimaced in pity as he gestured to her in what he hoped was a non threatening way, " you need help."

She lifted her chin defiantly and shook her head immediately regretting it as her vision swam, "The last time a man offered to help me when I was injured, his leader ended up employing me as the camp whore." She told him with as much dignity as she could muster. "You will forgive me if I am a little wary of groups of men." She noticed the looks of mild shock as they registered her clipped English accent, and decided that she had already provided them with too much information.

She closed her eyes momentarily trying to regain her sense of balance, as the lightheaded woozy feeling washed over her and fighting the feeling of panic she turned away from them, " Thanks anyway but I will take care of myself," she told them as nonchalantly as she could over her shoulder and started to walk away.

The three men exchanged worried glances as she moved away further down the road, very obviously trying to stay upright and not showing weakness. Rick bit his lip and dry rubbed his face, his hand working the nape of his neck as he ducked his head in thought. He was adverse to letting strangers into the group especially with his children back at the prison but his sense of morality was warring with his usual sense of protectiveness over the group. She desperately needed help, his conscience was bleating to him. A small voice in his head reminded him of Randall and his group of thirty men who had come across a family with two young daughters. If they had come across that group instead of by sheer dumb luck never meeting them, would this have happened to Lori, or Andrea or Carol, or even worse to one of the young girls like Sophia? What had very obviously happened to this poor woman.

However, he had stood back as she had murdered the man in a fit of rage, but in truth he couldn't deny that they all done that at some point since the world had gone to shit. He couldn't blame her for it, mitigating circumstances and all that, in fairness he didn't know what she had been through he could only guess from the state of her. She was obviously distraught and maybe slightly unhinged but the pure rage that he had seen on her face, the contortion of her he guessed normally pretty features had been mesmerising in the only way that horrifying sight can be. He wasn't sure whether it was the circumstances that made her act like that or it was naturally part of her character but could they risk bringing her into their group when they had so much to lose?

"We can't jus' leave her," Daryl murmured in his quiet drawl and squinting sideways at Rick, " She'll die 'fore noon, probably heat exhaustion an' with all tha blood she migh' as well ring tha dinner bell fer tha geeks. Not a nice way ter go." Rick grunted quietly in agreement, glancing at Glen who was frowning in concern at the lone figure walking slowly away. If he didn't know better he would have guessed that she was a walker looking at her gait, her stumbles betraying the weakness in her legs and the last of her strength leaving her.

"You heard her reply when we offered our help, how the hell do we convince her to trust a group of men after what the last group did to her?" Glen ventured, causing Daryl to shrug his lean shoulders in answer. In that moment, fate seemed to make the decision for them as they watched her stumble unsteadily, she swayed on her feet slightly before her legs went from under her making her fall heavily to the floor.

They ran to her, Rick reaching her first, their eyes continuously scanning around them for walkers. He turned her onto her back to check that she was still alive and leaning in to her mouth, he listened to her breathing, and felt a weak pulse reverberating through his fingers at her neck. "She's still alive." He confirmed as Daryl holstered his crossbow over his shoulder.

"Le's git her back ter Hershel then ta git her fixed." He reached down, gently grabbing her hand and wrapping his other hand around her small waist, he counterbalanced his weight to bring her up to sitting position so he could sling her over his shoulder.

"Nooo," She slurred weakly, feebly flailing her other hand against his shoulder and barely being able to open her eyes, "I won't... I won't let you... I won't belong to anyone... anymore." She whispered as her head fell limply back against his muscled arm and her body went lax. Daryl looked at her his heart contracting in sympathy, as a couple of tears escaped from her swollen eyelids, cutting salty tracks through the caked blood.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat and coughing gruffly, he changed his mind about picking her up in a fireman's lift. She seemed to have been stripped of every dignity at the hands of these men, and the position of her body over his shoulder would expose her unnecessarily. He looped his arm around her waist and the other under her legs, and hauled up to standing position with her in his arms, knowing it would be more strenuous to carry her back but it was worth the small gesture. She whimpered slightly in pain, with her head lolling against his chest, he gently shushed her in a soothing baritone hum. Miraculously she seemed to nuzzle her forehead against him trustingly like a child, and sighed relaxing in his grip.

Nodding to the other men, avoiding their eyes as he regretted his moment of weakness, they turned back to their home, the prison that lay just beyond the trees.


	2. Building Bridges

Hi guys sorry it took so long to update - has been nuts at work and home life!

Thanks for the reviews, follows and favourites as always - hope you enjoy it! x

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Rick and Glenn crossed and covered in front of Daryl, killing walkers that turned in interest toward the awkward quartet as they moved at a trotting speed through the trees. Daryl sighed in relief as he saw the gates come into view, the muscles in his arms had started to burn as he clung to Charlotte's body. She wasn't necessarily heavy it was more that he was trying to run and counterbalance her dead weight by leaning backwards, causing strain to his lower back. He was nearly there, and they had made it without too much trouble from the geeks. Luck was definitely on their side.

Maggie standing guard, opened the gates as they approached, killing a couple of walkers that seemed to perk up at her sudden movements, and the noises of the metal gates grating against each other.

"Oh my god," She gasped as Daryl moved past her with his bundle, grunting at her in greeting. She shot Glenn a questioning look as they fell in behind Daryl and Rick. He quickly explained what had happened on the road as Daryl carried on not waiting to make conversation and made his way up to the cell block they called their home. Rick ushered them into the quiet library thankful that most of the group were outside eating breakfast and asked Maggie to get Hershel. Daryl gently laid her down on one of the large wooden tables, supporting her heavy head from falling with a thump. The small group of men watched as Hershel entered the room behind Maggie, a look of consternation on his weathered face at what his eldest daughter had just told him.

"Maggie, please will you fetch my bag. Glenn can you find some bolt cutters to remove these shackles." he asked in his quiet, authoritative voice, his eyes never leaving the sprawled figure on the large table, as his two goffers moved away to get the requested items. As usual, he allowed himself the indulgence of being horrified for a minute at what was in front of him and every sense of his Christian morality being affronted, then he slipped on his cool veneer and switched to doctor mode.

Maggie returned with the bag in one hand and a small bowl of water in the other, a towel hanging over her shoulder. She handed the bag to her father who set about getting his instruments out, whilst she proceeded to wash Charlotte's face with the wet towel. Once she was finished he moved around to the top of the table, assessing her face almost tenderly manoeuvring her head one way then the other, his fingers gently feeling the bone around her eye socket and cheekbone, down the jawline. He nodded to himself, his snowy white eyebrows knitting together in concentration, as he opened her mouth and inspected her teeth.

Without saying a word he moved around the table, taking his time as he checked over the scratches on her legs and feet. Glen returned, and between him and Rick they managed to remove the small padlocks keeping the shackles on her wrists. Hershel paused in his ministrations, as Rick raised her limp body into a sitting position, her head flopping forward to her chest. He softly swept her thick corkscrew curls from her neck and grimaced in satisfaction as the bolt cutters crunched through the padlock and the metal manacle with its heavy chain fell to the floor with a resounding clunk. Finally Hershel was able to get the blood pressure cuff on her upper arm and the group silently watched as he listened to her heartbeat with his stethoscope, the wristwatch in his other hand audibly ticking away the seconds.

Taking a deep breath, he sighed deeply, turning away from her and started putting his things back into his bag. "Amazingly, there isn't any permanent damage no broken bones, her nose isn't broken and no shattered teeth. The skin will heal in time although she will have some mighty bad bruising probably for a week or so. The scratches on her legs and the broken skin around the cuffs are superficial. Her blood pressure is low and her breathing a little more shallow than I would like but her pulse is strong. I think a couple of good meals and a good night rest will put her to rights."

"Wha' 'bout...erm her otha injuries? Will sh' be okay?" Daryl queried after a reflective pause in the group, keeping his eyes averted and chewing nervously on his thumbnail, a slight blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks.

"Well there maybe a possibility that she isn't hurt and the blood is only natural..." He answered quietly, wishing rather than believing it was true, "although putting her appearance together with the little that she told you out on the highway..." he sighed and looked directly at the small group gathered on the other side of the table his mouth setting in an austere line, " she will recover in time. I think the psychological damage will stay with her a lot longer than the physical damage will."

All nodded in agreement choosing not to comment on the dour assessment. Rick was the first to shake himself out of the depressive mood and set about issuing orders in his natural way. "Let's get her into solitary. It's quiet in there, away from the group."

"I'll stay with her," Maggie volunteered worrying her bottom lip in thought, " I don't think it's a good idea that she wakes up surrounded by men. Maybe it'll be less stressful for her to have another woman around."

Rick mulled over her point and after a couple of seconds slowly nodded, agreeing with her. He still wasn't sure whether this woman was in any way dangerous but at least in solitary she was away from the group and he knew that Maggie could look after herself. He also had to agree with Maggie, this woman would probably panic if she awoke surrounded by men. This way everyone won. He watched as Daryl stepped forward, picking her up again in his arms and started to make his way to the large cell that had once been solitary confinement. Hershel and Glen sauntered off to join the group for breakfast all agreeing that they wouldn't discuss Charlotte with the group until they had gathered for a meeting later. He and Maggie followed Daryl as he moved through the corridors, and entering the large room placed her on the unmade bed.

"Lets leave her to rest," Maggie ordered quietly, ushering the men out of the room, "I'll see about getting her some clothes and some water, and come back to keep an eye on her."

Rick and Daryl followed the dark corridors to the outside, to get some breakfast. Rick turned to him just before they reached the gate to the outer areas. " We need to have a group meeting after breakfast to discuss what we are going to do. I also think that we need to lock down the cell block tonight, maybe post a guard outside."

"Ya'll thin' sh's dangerous?" He frowned, squinting at the sunlit courtyard, his eyes raking over the people sitting together eating their breakfast and basking in the sun.

Rick greeted two of the Woodbury women walking past the gate who waved good morning to the two leaders before answering, "Not necessarily, although I was a little disturbed at the fury that she killed that Zeke guy, " he waved his hand forestalling Daryl pointing out the obvious reason for her fury, "though I think she is too broken at the moment to do anything. I'm more concerned about the group of men that she killed. We don't know whether there are more of them, if there are they could possibly find the bodies and track her here. We can't take the risk especially after what happened with the governor."

Daryl exhaled heavily through his nose knowing that the former sheriff was right and dry rubbed his face, "Okay then usual plan. I'll take firs' watch tonigh' in th' guard tower, we lock down th' gates an' th' cell block where our people sleepin'. We make sure tha' th' cars ar' ready an' prepped." Having agreed, they both moved to the courtyard and joined the line for food.

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Charlotte moaned softly and achingly rolled onto her back. She raised her hand to her tender cheekbone and winced as her fingers touched the bruised skin. She could barely see out of her left eye, the eyelid swollen half closed, but luckily her right side was fine if a little groggy. She stopped the exploration of her wounds suddenly as her eyes fell on her wrist, automatically reaching for her neck and wincing in pain at her split lip as she smile impulsively when she realised it was gone.

In a split second, it all came crashing back to her; killing her captors, running in terror, killing Zeke, the three men on the highway. In the same moment she realised there was someone near her hovering cautiously. She reared up suddenly, her adrenaline kicking in, pushing herself back against the wall in the corner to face her new captor, holding her body as tightly together as possible and balled her hands up into fists.

"Wait, please wait," a female voice softly protested. She stared at the woman, drinking in her features and quickly scanning the room for any other people. The woman standing in front of her held her hands aloft, one of them holding a well worn paperback book, her soft green eyes beseeching her to listen to her. Charlotte warily lowered her hands, but kept her guard up, her body coiled in tension on the soft mattress ready to bolt if she found an opening. She realised a little to her dismay out of her peripheral vision that she was in some kind of cell. She wondered if the men had sent a woman in to make her drop her guard but she quickly dismissed this as she realised that she was fully dressed and looking relatively healthy.

"My name is Maggie," she told her quietly and gestured her hand to her chest, the other hand with her book held aloft between them, " please believe me we are trying to help you."

"Where am I?" Charlotte asked narrowing her eyes as Maggie very slowly moved to the end of the bunk and cautiously perched on the edge, placing the book slowly on the chair she had been sitting on.

"Where at a prison. Our group live in one of the cell blocks. This room is the old solitary confinement cell. After the experience you had, we thought it would be better for you to come around somewhere that wasn't teeming with people." She informed her, smiling kindly at her.

Charlotte nodded finally peeling her eyes away from the pretty woman sitting a couple of feet away from her, and took a good look around the room. It was quite large for a cell with four thick walls and a tiny barred window high above her eye line. There was a good sized window, obviously for observation which had a dusty floor length curtain pulled to one side, a table and chest of drawers against the other walls. If she hadn't known that it was supposed to house a criminal she would have guessed that they were in some kind of cheap motel room.

"The three men on the highway, " Charlotte questioned returning her attention back to Maggie, "there was a guy in a very careworn sheriff's outfit..."

"Rick." Maggie told her promptly.

"An Asian man and a guy with a crossbow...?" She completed her query.

"Glenn, he's my partner, and Daryl."

Charlotte nodded as she mouthed their names a couple of times, using her old trick to memorise names. She relaxed her pose a little, feeling the muscles protesting a little about being tightened so unexpectedly especially after her earlier exertions. She hadn't realised how much she ached until she stopped, but she reasoned she couldn't be surprised. She had passed out, for God only knows how long. Maggie took it as a good sign as she watched her slowly calm a little.

"How long was I out for?" She asked, glancing down at herself, her nose wrinkling in distaste and her cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment at the state of her clothing and body.

"It was this morning, it's now," she paused momentarily, her eyes flickering to her wrist watch," seven pm. Over fourteen hours."

"No wonder my muscles are aching then," she muttered running her hands over the scratches on her legs and inspecting the marks on her wrists. "So you said there is a group of you, there are a lot of you?" She enquired as nonchalantly as she could, wondering if Maggie would see through her thinly veiled attempt to gauge how many men there were and what her chances of getting away would be.

"There are twenty-five of us, we're a pretty mixed bag of ages and people. It's about fifty/fifty on the gender as well." She smiled reassuringly at the look of shock that crossed Charlotte's face.

"Twenty-five!" She exclaimed, her surprise momentarily making her forget her defensive posture as she leant forward," My God, that's amazing I haven't seen that large a group of people since I left Orlando." She absentmindedly licked the cut on her lip as she thought about her options. Maggie seemed to be genuine in her offer to help her and she needed to recover, she grunted rolling her eyes as she tried to move and felt her muscles protest once again as if to confirm her assessment. She could always see if these people would allow her to stay long enough to recover before carrying on her intended journey home. By the description Maggie had given her as well she said they were mixed ages, she wondered if maybe there were children in the group which if nothing else would give her a little hope that they weren't like her former captors. Never the less she would make sure that she wasn't alone with any of the men if she could avoid it. It was always better to be safe than sorry.

Almost as if she read her mind Maggie leant forward and placed her hand gently on Charlotte's, " you must be hungry and thirsty. Why don't you have a shower and get changed, "she gestured to the chest of drawers where there was a pile of clothes, toiletries and a towel, "and I will rustle you up something to eat."

"Come on showers and bathrooms are just around the corner from here, I'll show you," She bounded up from the cot and picked up the clothes moving to the door. "You coming?" She beckoned with a small incline of her head to the corridor. Charlotte momentarily hesitated then decided that she had nothing to lose. Maggie seemed genuine enough, and she was desperate to scrub herself clean and burn the clothes she was wearing. She gingerly got up assessing the extent of her soreness, then moved towards her nodding and smiling shyly at the younger woman.

When they reached the bathrooms, Maggie handed her the small pile of clothes in her arms and gestured to the doors. "Don't worry, I'll put the 'don't disturb' sign up so no one will come here whilst you're in there." She assured her opening the door into a large communal bathroom. She followed her in and set up the lamp in the main area lighting it up in a soft glow. The large vats of water sat glistening in the semi darkness, the portable shower pump and hoses towering above her. Maggie quickly demonstrated what she needed to do and then moved to leave her in privacy.

"Thank you Maggie." Charlotte smiled at her sincerely, hugging the clothes to her enjoying the fresh smell of detergent that wafted up to her.

"You're welcome. Oh, I forgot to ask you what's your name?" Maggie asked turning back to her, poised to close the door behind her.

"Charlotte." She answered quietly then hesitated before continuing, "please call me Lottie, my friends call me Lottie."

"Lottie." Maggie echoed softly, gave her a lopsided grin and closed the door behind her.


	3. Starlight, Starbright

Daryl took another pull on the cigarette, enjoying the burn in his lungs and exhaling the smoke leisurely. He was sitting on the corner of the walking platform in the guard tower his view of the surrounding countryside completely unobstructed, his trusty crossbow next to him. His pillows and blanket kept the chill of the stone away from his bones, as he leant his head on his forearm on the corner bars and his legs swung loosely beneath him, having discarded his heavy boots beside him. The scenery before him was breath taking, the land was bathed in silver moonlight and above him the sky was like a velvet black blanket with diamond dust sprinkled across it. It was warm nights like this, where the sky was clear enough to see everything, that reminded him of the times he would escape into the forest when he was a teenager, away from his father, away from the alcohol fuelled beatings and sleep by a small campfire under the stars. He would hunt for a while, cooking whatever he managed to catch on the little campfire and after eating his fill he would lie in the dirt, trying to count the stars and would somehow always manage to feel a little bit more at peace with the world.

He grunted, docking the spent cigarette next to him as he was pulled back to the present from his nostalgic memories by the snatch of groaning coming from near one of the fences. He morosely reflected that back then the worst he was afraid of was his father catching up with him whilst he was asleep on one of his little jaunts, though the walkers were now guaranteed to ruin a night sleeping under the stars.

Truth be told he never minded the night watches when he had the opportunity to sit in this kind of beauty. He volunteered to sit on watch, a couple of hours of sleep being the most that he would hope to get now a days when he had the luxury of staying in his own bed in the cell block. His eyes absentmindedly wandered over to her grave, the vase with the small Cherokee rose visible in the stark moonlight. He had kept up the tradition of replacing each rose that withered for the last five months. That was how long it had been since Carol had been bitten, when that little arsehole Andrew had set the alarms off in the prison just after they got there and caused them to be overrun. His gut churned when he thought about the fact that they had spared him. He still wished with all his heart that he had put a bullet in that little prick's forehead when they had first met them. While he was thinking about it he wished they had taken care of all the prisoners when they had first come across them in the canteen. Just avoided the whole fucking scenario.

That little shit's actions ended up causing more deaths than they had suffered since leaving Hershel's farm last year. Lori had died that night, not that he had much time for her with her tendency to be judgemental and meddling in other peoples business but still he never wished her dead. Thankfully, lil asskicker had survived. T-dog had also been bitten but had become so weak whilst trying to run away he couldn't fight them off as they overtook him. The bloody remains of his masticated body had been particularly soul destroying to dispose of.

But of all people, his heart had almost stopped when he realised that Carol was missing. He had tracked her through the halls after finding her knife embedded in the skull of a walker, finally finding her in one of the cells, thankfully in tact but severely bitten on the shoulder. He had stepped into the dark cell with her, his flashlight providing the only light in the room and had watched her fight against the fever that had overtaken her quickly. She had been completely lucid throughout the whole ordeal, as he held her close to him mostly in companionable silence, waiting for her inevitable death. Her stormy blue grey eyes had looked on him with compassion as he tried his best to keep his face straight. She knew him inside out, she could read him like a book even through his best poker face. She had saved him from himself, she had refused to give up on him with as much determination as he had refused to give up on finding Sophia.

After the death of her daughter, which he had taken so personally, she had pulled him back to the group as he tried to separate himself from it. The months travelling after Hershel's farm got overrun simply solidified their friendship and an understanding had been forged, that they friendship was more than companionship. He sighed as he thought about the times they could have consummated their new relationship and didn't get a chance to on the long perilous journey before they found the jail. The jail would have been a safe haven, if only for a little while before all the shit that happened with the governor.

He had held her as she had breathed her last breath, her eyes telling him that she loved him and that she was sorry that she had to leave. Only then did he allow himself to let go of his emotions when she could no longer see him. He had growled in pain as the numbness lifted, the truth sank in that he would never see her smile at him so shyly, so unsurely again in that way that he loved. He had not waited for her to turn, inserting the blade at the base of her head quickly, knowing that if he saw her eyes open again and the blue was tainted with the lifeless hue that he had seen in so many of the walkers, he would be cursed, they would haunt his dreams forever more. He had held her for what seemed like hours, silent tears coursing down his face until he was finally spent. With a couple of shuddering breaths, he had pulled himself together and had left the small tomb with her body in his arms.

The loss of Lori seemed to have overshadowed the deaths of Carol and T-Dog due to the complete breakdown that had ensued with their leader. He had had to step up to lead the group, numbing the pain of his loss, until Rick was ready to join the collective again. Once everything had seemed to settle, he grieved his loss in private keeping his heart ache suppressed and his consistent reserved demeanour in tact. There were times when he saw a flicker of sympathy from someone in the original group cross their faces when they pretended that they couldn't hear him yelling out in his sleep or when he would turn up at breakfast with heavy bags under his eyes. They, thankfully, chose not to pursue it or question knowing they would receive a cutting remark to mind their own business but they all knew about his dreams. It was hard not to know when you lived in so close proximity to each other.

He bit his lip hard, as he felt the hot tears sting at the corners of his eyes, rubbing them impatiently away and clearing his throat gruffly. His father had taught him it was weakness to cry, the resulting beatings had trained him to hide his tears, and hide them well until finally he could stop them at will. Sometimes though even he couldn't stop the dam from breaching. The dreams were always the same, he would helplessly watch as Carol was ripped to pieces in front of him, his body pinned down by an invisible force holding him down, her screams permeating through him right to his bones. He avoided sleep now when he could, snatching a couple of hours when exhaustion overtook him and mercifully let him slip into a dreamless slumber. It was an ironic way to live in this world being more afraid of falling asleep than the monsters that clawed at the fences less than five hundred meters away.

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as if he could clear the images of her away. He turned his thoughts instead to the events of the day. His eyes roamed absentmindedly over the landscape, looking for any movement other than the walkers as he mused. They had held the meeting after breakfast informing the whole group about Charlotte. It had been agreed between Rick, Hershel, Maggie, Glenn and himself not to disclose the particular horrors of her ordeal to save her dignity and having to relive it. They told the group instead that she had been in a fight and due to her injuries had been struggling to get away from a group of walkers. There had been a collective consensus of sympathy for the woman from the Woodbury survivors, though the original group had all looked at the leader with a little suspicion, sensing there was more to the story than was told. At least Charlotte now had a choice whether to divulge the details of her experience to them or not.

She had apparently woken this evening, had a shower managed to eat something and then fallen asleep again as exhaustion had overtaken her. Maggie had come out long enough to heat up some of the stew they had made for dinner and tell them the basic information they had gleaned from their new guest. They felt that it was a good sign that she was talking to Maggie, Maggie's instincts about earning her trust had been the right call. They had agreed to leave her to sleep until the next morning.

He was unsure what to make of her. His first thought had been of some damsel in distress type when he had seen her fall limply to the ground after being let go by Zeke. Once he had gotten over the initial disgust and boiling anger at her appearance, he had been surprised and a little impressed at her lunging up to face them with the small knife. After he had watched in fascinated, disturbing awe as she had killed Zeke, his heart had skipped a beat as her dark blue eyes had held him captive for the briefest of seconds, her pretty, blood stained face set in determination before turning away from them. Her eyes had burned right through him, daring him to challenge her, even though she was outmanned and outgunned. He had a feeling that once she had recovered she would be a handful. The ice around his heart had thawed a little as she had feebly fought against him proclaiming that she wouldn't belong to anyone, but he knew that he had to curb that feeling. He wouldn't allow someone else to get close to him, not after the loss of first Sophia, then Carol and his brother Merle. Everyone died in this Godforsaken world. He wouldn't let anyone else in, he had to protect himself. He lost everyone and he didn't think he could bare to lose anyone else.

His dark musings were interrupted when he heard the sound of the metal gate softly clanging against its frame from behind him. He got to his feet, and sauntered to the edge to look down into the courtyard and was surprised to see a woman slowly padding barefoot towards the metal runner gates that led to the outside fields. He cursed under his breath as his first thought was that she was a walker that somehow had gotten through the gates on the other side. His eyes flicked over to his crossbow sitting on the blankets at the other end of the stone gangway, but stopped dead when he noticed that she was looking straight up at the sky, her head tilted back. Instantly he relaxed when he realised that whoever it was, it wasn't a walker, he could just make out her features bathed in the moonlight as he peered closer at her over the railings. It was Charlotte.

She looked so different. The wild, thick cascading curls that had hung to the small of her back had been twisted into a thick bun at the base of her neck. She was wearing black jeans and a long sleeved red jumper. In the limited light he could see the left side of her face had already swollen, and that she was sporting a busted lip but he had been unconsciously reflecting over her features earlier, trying to make them out behind the mask of dry blood. From the little he could see he surmised that despite her bottom lip being swollen she had a natural bee stung pout, he could see that her dark sapphire eyes framed by thick black eyelashes were almond shape and a little on the small side for her heart shaped face, and that she had a small button nose. She was pretty, not necessarily conventionally but there was something about her that made you look a second time. She was quite tall, maybe 5'8, with a pear shaped figure, her waist and bust line were slender and small but she had generous hips and long legs. He wasn't even sure whether she would have been his type before the world went to shit, but then he couldn't say that he would have met her in any of the bars he used to frequent unless she was slumming it for a night out on the wrong side of the track. Yes, he would have definitely looked twice at her had he met her over a year ago but not necessarily for anything more than a drunken one night stand.

He gazed at her in mild interest from the shadows of the guard tower, as she stood peering through the gate longingly at the field where they grew their crops, where their graves stood at the very end and the pigsty housed their family of swine. She slowly opened the gate, trying to make as little noise as possible and squeezed herself through the small gap she had created carefully closing it behind her. A small smile pulled slightly at his rugged features as she walked tentatively to the grass, and moaned in pleasure as she stepped onto it her toes curling against the blades of grass in appreciation. She let her head fell back, and closed her eyes, her mouth in a wide smile as she sighed happily. After a minute she squatted down running her fingers through the grass feeling its soft, freshness, brushing it lightly against her finger tips. Letting herself fall back on her hunches, and then gingerly lowering her arse to the floor she reached up unravelling her hair from its restraints and quickly fluffed the still slightly damp curls out until they fell into a long wild mass. She gently laid back into the grass with another contented sigh and wiggled her body in the long turf, giggling childishly as the grains she disturbed floated in the air above her. After a settling into a comfortable position, she brought her arms up to support under her head and greedily scanned the diamond like stars drinking in the beauty of the night before her.

Daryl knew that for her the thing that she coveted, and maybe he took for granted, was freedom. He understood the need, the pull, of the outdoors which for him was only natural having grown up with it. For this woman however after the confinement she had endured it would more than likely be the only thing she needed for now, more than food or creature comforts. She would have snuck past Maggie, sleeping in the same room as her to help her if she woke disorientated, then through the dark corridors, past the cell block where they were all sleeping behind the locked gates to finally reach the outside gates leading to the courtyard. The trek through the corridors would probably have scared her half to death, but the lure of standing outside in the fresh air would have probably been too powerful an urge to resist.

He quietly padded back to his blankets, making himself comfortable as quietly as he could. She hadn't noticed him up there in the shadows, and he decided that he wouldn't alert her to his presence, he would be gone in the morning. It would only make her uneasy, maybe even cause her to bolt back inside. She deserved to not be scared or feel trapped especially on a peaceful night like this. He chuckled softly to himself as he heard the soft flutters of snoring coming from below and lit himself another cigarette, the red glow illuminating his face as he dragged on it. He leant his chin on his forearm once again, against the cold railing and watched her sleeping for a couple of minutes before tearing his eyes away from her relaxed form, and scanning over the horizon.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the warm balmy breeze that ruffled through his hair as the crickets sang their chorus into the quiet night, and the nostalgia of his teenage years enveloped him once again. He silently laughed at the little snuffles carrying up to him from below, and decided to spend the remainder of his watch counting the stars, something he used to do when he felt a modicum of peace with the world and something, he realised with a twinge of regret, that he had not done in many years.


	4. Breakfast with the inmates

Charlotte's eyelids squinted slightly when the first rays of sun hit her face, making her frown slightly as she slowly came around from her deep slumber. She moved her head further into the crook of her arm, rubbing her face against the soft jumper sleeve and yawned loudly. Smiling as the sun bathed over her features she stretched lazily and stopped suddenly when she realised her side was slightly damp. Opening her eyes, she blinked in a bemused way as she focused on a pretty little blond girl sitting cross legged beside her watching her with curiosity, an old teddy bear clutched closely to her chest. They were in a field. Of course they were in a field, she chided herself as she remembered thinking that she was going to spend the night star gazing and falling asleep within ten minutes.

"Hiya," the girl trilled, flashing her a big smile that had a couple of her baby teeth missing. She achingly raised herself to a sitting position feeling suddenly self conscious as the little girl continued to stare at her, her eyes darting all over her with a certain level of fascination.

"Hello," She replied quietly, and smiled unsurely at her, wincing slightly as her split lip pulled. She licked her dry lips, tentatively compressing them together to moisten them. She raised her hand to her face, pushing her hair back and gently pressing the area, surprised that it didn't hurt as much as she thought it was going to. Though the rest of her body was complaining extensively at having slept all night on a bumpy, grassy area.

"Are you British?" She asked sweetly pulling Charlotte's attention back to her, her big brown eyes sparkling.

"Yes I am, I'm English." She replied, nodding and smiling at her. "What's your name?"

"Mika." She whispered shyly, bringing her teddy bear to her face in the self conscious way that children did to hide themselves. Charlotte couldn't help the wide smile that pulled at her mouth instantly brightening her features, she had forgotten what it was like to talk to a child. This girl couldn't have been any older than about nine or ten.

"That is a very pretty name. My name's Charlotte, but you can call me Lottie if you like." She told her gently, ducking her head to meet the little girls eyes and reaching her hand tentatively to touch the stuffed toy, she stroked the worn, patchy fur. "My little girls had teddy bears just like this one. What's his name?"

"George." She told her holding him out to her so she could inspect him, her shyness suddenly forgotten.

She grinned widely as Charlotte pinched his furry paw in between her finger and thumb, "George! Well by jove it is absolutely spiffing to make your acquaintance," she exclaimed in her best hearty, regal English accent earning herself a high pitched giggle from Mika. Her heart contracted slightly as she was suddenly reminded of her own girls laughing in the same way when she used to play with them, they always loved her impression of the British Monarch, begging her to do it when she enacted the part of the customers in their games of shop keeper.

Mika brought George to her ear and pretended to listen to him speaking, not noticing the way the adults face had fallen slightly when she had giggled at her accent, "George said it's nice to meet you too. He also wants to know why you were sleeping outside instead of your bed? Do you not have a bed?"

"Yes I do have a bed, but you know what, it was so lovely outside last night I decided that I would sleep under the stars. I haven't done that in a long time." She told her wistfully. "Have you never slept under the stars?"

Mika shook her head, her mid length blond hair shimmering in the early morning light. "No. But I think I would like to one day." She told her thoughtfully. "How did you get the boo boo on your face?" She asked curiously pointing to her left eye, changing her conversation tack at lightning speed, as kids do when they are just voicing whatever came to their hyper active minds.

"A very bad man was hurting me and Rick, Daryl and Glenn saved me from him, like super heroes." She told her simply, not needing to elaborate as Mika bobbed her head eagerly.

"They saved me and my sister and my daddy from a very bad man as well," She told her agreeing with her description," he was the governor in our town where we lived but then he turned bad and he hurt a lot of people. They saved us like super heroes as well. Did they kill the bad man that was hurting you?"

Charlotte felt shock surge through her for a second as the terrible question was asked in her sweet innocent voice, but she knew that it was a different world now where life and death was on your doorstep everyday. Her eyes flickered absentmindedly over the little girls shoulder to the corpses clambering at the fences before meeting her big chocolate coloured eyes, "No they didn't but he won't ever hurt anyone again," she smiled gently, " so you have a sister?"

"Yeah, she's my big sister and she's called Lizzie," Mika answered not perturbed by the sudden change again in conversation, "You can come and meet her if you like."

"Yeah, I would like that very much," Charlotte answered as she watched Mika stand up from her sitting position without any preamble, and smiled wryly as she took a little longer to get her older bones moving, hoisting herself up. She looked up across to the gates to see people milling about the courtyard, talking amongst themselves and lining up for their breakfast. Her stomach growled as she suddenly thought of food, in the last twenty four hours only having eaten a couple of crackers and a bowl of stew. She realised that she was actually famished, but her mouth went dry at the thought of having to talk to a large group of people for the first time in probably a year. She took a deep breath trying to steel herself against the rising wave of panic that was surging through her.

Mika's small, dry hand slipped into Charlotte's larger one, causing her to pull her eyes away from the group of adults to look down at her. The child seemed to sense the hesitancy in the adult and smiled at her reassuringly. "Lottie, will you sit with me and George at breakfast?"

Charlotte grinned back at her nodding eagerly, and with the child pulling insistently on her hand, they moved to the gates. Once they entered the courtyard, Charlotte realised that her hair and clothes were probably full of grass and in disarray. She quickly pulled her hairband over her knuckles and ran her fingers through her hair trying to tame it and pull it into a bun at the base of her neck. She only had a couple of seconds to dust her clothes down, and vigorously wipe the sleep out of right eye before the first couple of people sauntered over to her with welcoming smiles on their faces, and prayed that her morning breath wasn't too bad. Charlotte was still nervous, but Mika's confidence as she introduced her new friend to people that she had known all her life made her a little more at ease. She shook hands with two women about her age who introduced themselves as Chloe and Jeanette, and smiled warmly as Mika excitedly grabbed her older sister Lizzie and dragged her over to Charlotte. The other two women smiled indulgently at the children, and moved to the food counter with their empty bowls after having welcomed the new comer.

"This is Lizzie," She told her, "and that's my dad," pointing to a middle aged, pot bellied man sitting at one of the large picnic tables who gave her a friendly wave and nod. She reciprocated the nod with a smile and turned back to the older sister and another friend who had followed her to speak to the new member of their group. She was barely a teenager, maybe about thirteen or fourteen, with dirty blond hair and unlike her sister who had soft brown eyes, she had sparkling blue eyes and white, even teeth. Her friend, a teenage boy, was quite tall and lanky, about the same age, with unsmiling blue eyes that seemed to be scrutinising her.

"Hi , I'm Lottie. It's nice to meet you," She introduced herself to the teenagers, suddenly feeling self conscious again as she was sure that they were wondering why she had slept in the field instead of her bunk and that they could see flecks of grass in her hair and the slight damp from the morning dew running down her right side where she had slept curled up.

"I'm Carl," the boy shook her hand quite solemnly, looking up at her narrowing his glacial eyes from under the large, brown sheriff's hat that seemed to sit slightly too loosely on his head. He smiled tightly at her, sensing that his father had not told them the complete truth about this stranger but accepting that she didn't seem to be much of a threat. He had been very reluctant when his father had brought the survivors to their safe haven a couple of months ago after the whole Woodbury incident but they had settled in and become part of the prison life now. He was still unsure about some of the other children, and even a couple of the adults, believing them to have been sheltered from the horrors of the outside world but he had made a couple of good friends and now wasn't as worried for the safety of his baby sister, Judith, as he had been in the beginning.

This woman, who reminded him a little of his mother in the way she held her tall frame, could be just another mouth to feed, a hindrance to the group or even potentially a threat once she had regained her strength. The natural sense of trust that children have in adults had evaporated quickly in this new world, and he had found his fathers mistrust of letting new people into the group had rubbed off on him so much so that he believed at times his father was more forgiving of people than he was, or ever could be. He was pleased that his father had taken certain precautions with the lock down of the cell block and Daryl on watch, but then he was mildly confused as to why Daryl had not sent her back to the solitary cell when she had appeared outside. Why had he allowed a complete stranger to wander around freely?

"Come on Lottie, let's get some breakfast," Mika told her grabbing her hand once more, she led her and the teenagers over to join the small line for food, intermittently stopping to introduce her to members of the group along the way. Charlotte started to relax a little as she realised that the people were friendly, although she was still a little wary of the men as she was a little more reluctant to shake their hands than the women. In relief she saw that Maggie was at the front of the line, having her bowl filled with a gloopy porridge from the large, industrial sized pan by a tall, slender man wearing an apron.

As she approached her, the two of them greeted each other warmly," Morning! I woke up and you were gone. Did you sleep well on the grass?" She asked good-humouredly.

"Yes really well thank you, I'm sorry I snuck past you last night. I just wanted to lie under the stars for a little while but I must have been more tired than I thought because I dozed off." She admitted sheepishly, grinning ruefully at her new friend. Maggie laughed, shaking her head and put her hand on her arm.

"Don't worry, when we first got here Glenn and I used to sneak out to the guard tower all the time." She whispered. Both ducked their heads, laughing silently as Charlotte stepped forward to get her bowl filled with porridge. She suddenly felt uncomfortable as the man who introduced himself as Henry, wearing a 'kiss the cook' apron over his jeans and shirt, gave her an oily smile, his eyes flickering over her appreciatively. Maggie didn't notice the exchange as she chatted to Carl and Lizzie about their plans for the day. Charlotte fought against the tremble in her hands, patiently waiting as he spooned the food into her bowl, his eyes fixated on her face, trying to catch her downcast eye. She mumbled her thanks, and moved quickly away to the next table where they were stood waiting for her, thankful that his attention turned to the next person in the line. Her eyes widened as they scanned over the contents of the table; strawberry jam, tinned pineapple and peaches, and a large metal container of the unmistakable white, sand like substance, sugar.

"Oh my God you have sugar!" She exclaimed in awe, "and fruit!" Mika and Lizzie both looked at her non-plussed due to her outburst not understanding why she would get excited over something so ordinary having been sheltered from the world for so long but Maggie and Carl understood. It was something that had been so mundane in a previous life and was now considered a treat to them if they found it on one of their runs.

Maggie nudged her elbow, picking up a spoon of sugar and silently offering to sprinkle it over her porridge. Charlotte nodded vigorously accepting her offer, and then followed Mika as she led them to one of the picnic tables where her father, Hershel and Daryl were in the middle of eating their breakfast, talking to each other in their low voices. They looked up as she sat down gingerly on the hard bench, and she smiled bashfully at them, greeting them with a quiet "Good morning" but not meeting Daryl's eyes.

She was sure that he had been the one that had carried her beaten and filthy body back to the prison. Sighing internally, she came to the conclusion that she would have to let go of the embarrassment she would inevitably feel when facing the three men that had witnessed her in her most humiliating state. It was not her fault it had happened, and it was definitely not theirs so she had to just shut that door on the past and get on with the present. She almost snorted at herself as the pep talk ran through her head. She subconsciously pulled her sleeves further down over her knuckles, stretching the material of the jumper, and studiously tried to avoid his gaze as she settled herself between Mika and Maggie.

"Morning," Hershel drawled to the group, Daryl simply nodded tearing his gaze away from Charlotte back to his bowl. Hershel was pleased to see that aside from the red swelling to her left upper eyelid and cheekbone, and the busted lip, the rest of her face seemed to be unscathed. He could see, now that she had bathed, that her skin was a creamy white with a smattering of freckles across her nose, her dark hair which had been matted with blood, sweat and leaves the day before glimmered a rich, chocolate colour in the morning sun. He smiled as he noticed there were a couple of little kernels of grass stuck in the restrained, thick curls, and patches of grass stains on the back of her trousers and jumper. There was nothing like sleeping under the stars on a warm, balmy night.

"Lottie, this is my dad Hershel," Maggie said waving to him, after realising that she would not remember meeting him yesterday but that he was one of the few in the group that knew of what had happened to her.

"And I'm Ryan," Mika's father chipped in holding out his hand, "welcome to the neighbourhood."

"Thank you." She replied, smiling at both of them.

Taking her first mouthful of the sugary warm gloop, she closed her eyes in delight as it's sweetness zinged across her taste buds, she savoured the taste for a couple of seconds before swallowing with a satisfied sigh and opening her eyes.

"Good?" Ryan asked, barely hiding the laughter in his voice. Charlotte's cheekbones flamed bright red as she realised they were all staring at her, and she mumbled an apology, fiddling with her spoon self consciously.

"I've not tasted sugar since this all happened," She explained sheepishly," I have always had a major sweet tooth," she grinned and sighed melodramatically, "That was like a spoonful of heaven."

"Not even candy?" Mika asked in shock, as if even at the end of the world everyone should still be entitled to have chocolate and sweets. Charlotte shook her head regretfully trying not to laugh at the evident surprise on the young girls face.

"So you're British?" Ryan broached a different subject after a moments lull in conversation, allowing Charlotte to collect herself a little.

"Yes, I'm English. I live in a city called Manchester in the north of England." She told him continuing to eat her breakfast, a little less enthusiastically. "I am originally from just South of London, I moved to Manchester to go to university and ended up staying there when I met my husband James."

"What where you doing over here?" He enquired, waving his spoon in the air signalling for her to continue as he took another bite of his fruit.

"I was in Orlando on holiday with my family when the world turned upside down." She replied softly. Her eyes glazed over slightly, looking somewhere in the past, as the memories flooded back, her facial expression closing down. She pushed back the lump forming in her throat and blinked against the slight sting of tears filming her eyes.

Before her feelings overwhelmed her, she shook her head slightly and cleared her throat, "I would rather not talk about it." She concluded firmly, her tone clearly marking the end of the conversation. She turned her face to him giving him a tight, apologetic smile which he reciprocated with an understanding nod. The adults all guessed correctly, and sadly, that she had lost her husband and children whilst they had been on a dream holiday to Disney World.

"Daddy, can I sleep under the stars tonight like Lottie did last night?" Mika asked eagerly, unwittingly breaking the silence that had enveloped the group. Charlotte grimaced at the man rolling her eyes and mouthed sorry, knowing that he would more than likely get a stuck out bottom lip and big teary eyes if he refused. Having been placed in the same position by her daughters in the past she knew how soul destroying it was sometimes to say no and to be labelled the bad guy especially when fighting against the puppy eyed look.

"No baby girl, you have to sleep in the cell block with your family." He told her gently hoping to deflect a possible tantrum, "Lottie is an adult and you know it's unsafe outside the cell blocks." He reasoned with her.

"But Daryl was on watch last night, so it was safe." She argued her little hand pointing to the nearest guard tower, as Charlotte's head snapped up and looked at Daryl, her face shocked and expression guarded.

"You were in the guard tower?" She asked uncertainly, frowning at him as he nodded slowly in response. "I didn't realise." She mumbled as her cheeks flushed slightly, averting her eyes from the group watching her, to her empty bowl. She felt embarrassed as she thought about how she had rolled about in the grass like an idiot and had probably been snoring. More than anything she was a creeped out at the thought of yet another man watching her, even if it may have been innocent.

Daryl looked at her, worried that she had misconstrued his silence the night before as anything other than good intentions, "I didn't say anythin' cus I figured y'all would probably wanna go back inside if ya knew I was there so... I left ya be," He explained quietly, shrugging as if it was no big deal.

Hershel and Maggie exchanged looks also understanding the meaning behind Daryl's comment as Charlotte's eyes travelled over his face for a second before the stiffness in her features relaxed. She realised that she believed him as she read his expression, his blue eyes reflecting only sincerity. He was right, had she seen him she would have bolted back into the prison without glancing over her shoulder and would have missed out on the most peaceful sleep she had had for over a year. She nodded at him, her shy, small smile conveying her gratitude for his thoughtfulness.

"I'm sorry if my snoring disturbed your watch," She told him playfully after a pause, trying to alleviate the slightly tense atmosphere that had fallen on the group as the redneck and the new comer had their cryptic exchange. Carl was still watching them both warily, now more than positive that there was more to her story than they had led the group to believe. He was determined to ask his father what had really happened.

"Nah don' worry 'bout it, y'all wer' snufflin' more than snorin' an' I'm used to it since we got the pigs." He told her, smirking slightly. Her mouth momentarily dropped incredulously at his insult before she burst out laughing, joined by most of the group at the table. Mika looked between them, her expression curious at the adults tittering at each other.

"What? What's funny?" She asked Charlotte, having missed Daryl's quiet jibe.

Charlotte smiled down at her, "Daryl was just telling us that apparently when I snore I sound like a piglet." She ended her sentence with a little snuffling sound and a grunt in her imitation of a pig. Mika squealed with laughter, causing everyone to laugh again. Charlotte glanced over at Daryl who was smirking down at his bowl, obviously pleased with himself. She really felt like being childish and sticking her tongue out at him but refrained, and contented herself with just grinning at Mika who was still giggling and doing piglet impressions.

Charlotte laughter faded as Henry joined their group, a cup of herbal tea in his hand, his eyes raking once more over her as he casually dropped into the seat opposite her and flashed a toothy grin at her. Maggie felt Charlotte's body stiffen slightly next to her, seeing her hand tremble in her lap she shot her a questioning look, to which Charlotte shook her head almost imperceptibly, her face pale. The group continued to chatter, but Daryl and Hershel exchanged looks as they also noticed the change in her demeanour. The three of them realised quite quickly that Henry had spooked her, and she was starting to panic but was frozen. Hershel raised his eyebrows to his daughter to signal to get her away from the table.

Before they could do anything Henry's attention diverted back to her, and he leered at her in sympathy as he pointed to the swelling in her face," That's gonna be one hell of a shiner." He took a deep slurp of his tea and smacked his lips in appreciation.

Charlotte felt her anger course through her at this arsehole firstly covertly smarming all over her, then pretending to be a nice guy by sympathising about her wounds in front of the group, her instincts telling her that he could quite easily be the type of man that affiliated with people that were scum like her captors had been. He was the type to portray himself to be a stand up guy but on the quiet enjoy kiddie porn. Her gut instinct had screamed at her within seconds of meeting this man, that he was not to be trusted, the small hairs on the back of her neck raising and causing goose bumps along her arms as soon as he had looked at her. There was something not right about this man and she promised herself to keep away from him at all costs.

She arched her eyebrow, her dark blue eyes flashing coldly at him as she joked humourlessly, "You think this is bad you should see the other guy."


	5. A little faith, a little hope

Hi guys - so sorry its taken so long to update - I have been working all hours and I haven't been able to get my head back into writing.

Thanks again as always for the follows, favourites and reviews - they are little pieces of heaven for me!

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Rick watched Charlotte and Maggie walking around the ground floor level of their cell block from the elevated walkway, stopping to chat to people casually as Charlotte looked around her in interest. Her roaming gaze rested on the deputy sheriff, the first time she had seen him since meeting him on the highway as he had already had breakfast by the time she had joined the line with Mika. She flickered a small smile at him, his own cupid bow lips responding in acknowledgement, before she pulled her eyes back to Maggie. She was explaining how the corridor beyond the gate at the back of the cell block lead to the solitary cell and the bathrooms, pointing in the general direction with a slender hand.

He returned his attention to the conversation about arranging a run for baby supplies and medical gear with Hershel and Glenn, Beth pottering around behind him with Judith, changing her nappy and preparing her formula. He wiped the sweat from his brow, scratching absently at the stubble on his chin. It was only ten o'clock and it was already oppressively hot. Daryl had just muttered about getting some shut-eye and sauntered off to his cell having spent the night on watch.

He had been surprised that morning when he had entered the courtyard and had seen someone lying in the grass. His initial thought had been that someone had been hurt or that a walker had somehow made it through the gates, his eyes instantly flickering to the guard tower. He had felt relief wash over him as his gaze instantly fell on the hunched form of his hunter friend sitting on the walkway. Daryl had spotted the sheriff, acknowledging him with a flick of his hand as he got up and made his way down the guard tower.

Rick had watched him walk towards him in his usual swaggering gait, realising as Daryl had approached him that it was Charlotte sleeping in the grass. They exchanged looks as he drew level with him, both glancing to the sleeping figure beyond the courtyard gate, Daryl had held his gaze almost defiantly then shrugged walking past him. Rick had understood then that the redneck had allowed the woman to enjoy her first night of freedom, sleeping under the stars instead of sending her back in to the small cell that they had allocated for her. For the second time in two days the hunter had surprised him, knowing him to be a good man but not overtly sensitive to someone's needs. Aside from Carol. Carol had been different.

His heart had plummeted lower than his boots when he had seen him walk in to their cell block with her body in his arms, covered in blood his face set in a stony expression but his eyes reflecting his heartache. He had not talked, he had not replied to questions or sympathetic utterings from the group as they all mourned this woman who had been a nurturing soul in the group. This had been only minutes before he found out that his wife had died in childbirth. The straw that had broken the camels back. He pushed the thoughts aside choosing as always to think about it in the privacy of his cell, just in case he lost control again.

Daryl had not been the same since Carol had died. He had always been taciturn, moody, hot tempered, sometimes downright difficult and stubborn but she had always managed to pull him back with a small gentle nudge. She was the only one that he responded to. He knew that their relationship had deepened whilst they had endured the long winter but he had turned away, rejoicing for their new found affection but fully aware of the fact that privacy seemed to be a rare commodity these days. He had been heartbroken when Carol had died, both for loss of the woman that he had loved as a sister and for the pain inflicted on the man that he had come to regard as his brother.

He was only half listening as Hershel and Glenn spoke at length about the medical needs of the group, slowly compiling their lists. He watched out of his peripheral vision as Maggie lead Charlotte up the stairs to the elevated gangway, chattering to her about the different groups, what their jobs were and what amenities they had in the prison. She listened intently barely uttering a word, obviously grateful for the friendship that she was being offered so graciously by the younger woman.

"This is Beth my younger sister," She gestured towards Beth, Charlotte smiling at her in greeting before she let out a gasp as her eyes fell on the baby, her hands flying to her mouth.

Each of them watched her in mild confusion as she slowly approached the plastic corrugated box, blinking in awe at Judith, "Oh my God," She breathed. She touched the edge of the box gently with her outstretched fingers, hesitant to reach any further. The baby's soft blue eyes, the same light colour as her older brother's, roamed with curiosity over the new comer, as she sucked contentedly at her pacifier. Her fine sandy blond hair had started to turn a Demerara sugar colour, enhancing her pale skin and azure eyes.

"I haven't seen a baby in over a year," She muttered absently, unable to pull her eyes away from her.

"Aren't you just the cutest little monkey chops, yes you are, yes you are." She gushed at her, baby talking as she bent over her smiling, and gently wiggling her tiny onsie clad feet with her slender fingers. "What is your name? What is your name?" She spotted the writing on the box, and bent her head down to read the block writing on the side, "Lil' as- " She gasped and straightened suddenly, staring at them incredulously.

The group burst out laughing at her affronted expression, and Rick shook his head still chortling, " Her name is Judith, she's my daughter. Lil' asskicker is the name that Daryl christened her with in the first couple of days because we hadn't decided yet." He cocked his head to the side and shrugged, a smile playing on his thin lips, "It kinda stuck."

"Judith," She nodded slowly mulling over the name not being able to mask the relief on her face, " that's such a lovely name."

She turned back to the baby, bending over again, smiling widely at her whilst she tickled her chubby tummy. Suddenly, Judith let out a high pitched squeal, her toothless mouth shaped into a beautiful smile around the pacifier and her large blue orbs blinking at her trustingly.

Charlotte choked out a surprised, shaky laugh that sounded like a sob, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears that seem to light up her features. Her hand rose unconsciously to her throat as if she could physically remove the lump that formed there. "You are so beautiful," she whispered, her hand moving to press against her lips, trying to stop them from quivering.

"Would you like to feed her?" Beth asked gently, holding up a bottle of formula. Charlotte's watery gaze flickered over momentarily to Rick seeking permission, his eyes blinking at her with an almost imperceptible acknowledgement. She smiled bashfully at Beth as she reached into the box and pulled up the baby, settling her in the crook of her arm and bounced her softly, cooing at her as she walked over to the small stool. Beth quietly handed her the bottle, and the group watched as Judith reached with both hands for the bottle and started chugging at it hungrily, completely unfazed that she had an audience.

The woman and baby sat, forgetting their surroundings or the people watching them, peacefully encompassed in their own sphere. Sapphire blue eyes locked with glacial blue, the only sound was that of the gentle nasal snuffles as she ate greedily, her tiny hand furling and unfurling around Charlotte's little finger. The baby's soft smell permeated her senses, that smell that can never be replicated, that made every mothers heartbeat slow to a pacified lull, the world forgotten in their unique bond.

"Are you her mother?" She asked Beth with a soft smile suddenly remembering the group around them but carefully keeping her voice free from any reproach that she held considering her youth. The pretty blond girl could only be in her late teens at the most.

"No," Rick informed her quietly, "my wife Lori died in childbirth, just over five months ago."

"I am sorry to hear that," She replied softly, her eyes reflecting sympathy. "I guess it goes to show the difference in the times." She continued, chewing on her lower lip as she mused.

"I had a straightforward pregnancy but difficulties with my labour. Jessica arrived like clockwork, no problems, but with Elizabeth something went wrong. They finally got her out safely but I haemorrhaged uncontrollably, and had to be taken to emergency surgery. I was told after that I would never be able to have children again but I didn't care. I was alive and had the best medical care I could wish for, and I had my two little angels. It's just so different." She sighed morosely, and looked up at the former deputy, "I'm sorry your wife never had the chance to meet her. She's perfect."

Rick nodded gazing affectionately at the baby in her arms, "Yeah she is. She looks just like her mother."

"Are your children in England?" Beth asked cautiously, having been filled in by Maggie about their new guest although not to the full extent.

"No." Charlotte replied, smiling sadly. "We decided to go to Disney World for the girls seventh birthday just before they went back to school, a dream holiday we had been talking about for years." She laughed wistfully, her eyes never leaving Judith, "I'm a huge Disney fan but James was adamant that he wouldn't take me before we had kids. So I was just as giddy as the girls when we booked it. We had only been there for three days when it happened." She hesitated slightly feeling her voice catch in her throat.

"That night when we got back to the villa all of us weren't feeling very well but I assumed that it was because we had had a really long day, and we were just tired. We went to bed early but later that night I woke up with the worst headache and so feverish, I was soaked through. I dragged myself from the bed and checked on the girls to find them in the same state, they were burning up." She shook her head frowing as the memories flooded in front of her eyes, "I managed to get the three of them into our rental car and somehow by some miracle got them to the hospital although I couldn't breath properly and I was so dizzy. We got to the accident and emergency department and the medical staff took them away from me. That's the last thing I remember before I passed out."

She put the empty bottle down on the floor, and sat the baby up rubbing and patting her back gently. Judith sat in her lap, her head bobbing about eyeing the people she knew and trusted, standing around watching her. She suddenly burped and brought her attention back to her temporary feeder who wiped the little milky white spittle from her chin with the bib. She opened her mouth obligingly as Charlotte held out the pacifier, and continued to suckled happily on it being bounced gently on her lap.

"I woke up three weeks later in one of those medical tents on a military base," She continued quietly, "I was weaker than I had ever been in my life but alive. Luckily for me one of the nurses that was still there, her name was Karen, she had been working that night I had brought my family in. She told me that my husband slipped into a coma the next day and died." She paused taking a shaky breath feeling the tears burning at the corner of her eyes, "my little girls were not so lucky, they were on the paediatric ward when it was overrun. I don't know if they were alive when... " She cleared her throat refusing to finish the sentence her voice breaking slightly, and blinked the tears away furiously, before turning a watery laugh to the baby who was reaching up to capture one of the long curls hanging over her shoulder.

She kept her eyes downcast, concentrated on the mewling infant, not daring to look at the group of survivors who had listened to her soft voice with rapt attention. If she saw the look of sympathy that she knew was on each of their faces her barely held together composure would crack. She reverted to the old technique she relied on when she felt the tidal wave of grief nearly overwhelm her; she took a deep breath exhaling slowly through her nose, and pushed the memories back, pushed the heart wrenching anguish down until it was subdued and blocked out. She pushed it all behind a wall that she could hide behind praying that the mortar and bricks of her resolve wouldn't crumble.

"Karen helped me through it, she was so strong." Her voice steady once more having roughly wiped her cheeks and composed herself, "The base I woke up in, in Orlando, was liaising with a base in Nova Scotia with satellite phones. Nova Scotia was where they were shipping all the top people of your government and military as they had managed to lock it down early and set up a temporary command post there."

She looked up at Rick, her eyes still slightly moist but alight with hope, "After we left the base we stayed in Orlando for about four months holed up in her apartment, long enough to regain my strength, long enough to ensure that her terminally ill mother was properly cared for in her last couple of months and then we left for Nova Scotia. That's where we were headed, to get out of dodge, a place where they were trying to rebuild and possibly see if I could contact my family. Maybe even get back home one day."

The group looked at her in disbelief. Hershel shook his head slowly and decided to break the news to her gently in his slow, methodical drawl, "Charlotte, you don't understand, this is a pipe dream, like Fort Benning, like Nebraska, like the military outposts on the Eastern coast...it's all wishful thinking. There is nothing left."

"No, "she told him shaking her head arguing stubbornly," Nova Scotia is an island, that has sub-zero temperatures and a population of less than a million. It didn't get hit as badly as the warmer states, for some reason they aren't as much of a problem in the cold and the people that succumbed were quarantined and put down immediately after their deaths." She waved her hand, dismissing the looks of doubt still evident in their expressions.

"Just after we left Orlando, Karen and I met two women and their children who were married to a pair of brothers in the army. The men had finally been sent to Nova Scotia, but they were still talking to each other on one of those satellite phones, you know one of those big chunky ones, and they were making their way to meet up with them." She told them insistently, "They had an arrangement to turn the phone on for a couple of minutes every evening at six o'clock to preserve the battery life, we were going with them but we got separated."

"Karen got bitten and I had to put her down before she turned." She flinched at the memory, nodding slowly and staring glassily into the past as she chewed absentmindedly on the inside of her mouth. Shaking herself out of her reverie, she stood up and placed Judith on her hip, moving her to the makeshift crib. "It was a couple of days before I met Zeke and his boys. That was seven months ago."

She turned back to them having resettled Judith, and rammed her hands self-consciously into her jean pockets as they each surveyed her. "If they survived the first five months, where the military base that I woke up in only survived a month before they couldn't stop the inevitable, who is to say it's not still there?"

Rick rubbed his forehead, the droplets of sweat itching against his dry skin, debating whether or not to tell her about the CDC and what Jenner had told him about the health authorities in France being the last place to have kept going. The CDC was a Government run agency, and Jenner had never mentioned about the base in Nova Scotia. He was pretty sure that he would have known about a government run military base, or likewise it would have been the first point of contact for the military base in Nova Scotia to liaise with due to the nature of the crisis. Jenna had told them categorically that there was nothing left in the world.

Six months ago he would have desperately listened to her, would have dragged the entire group desperately up to Canada even when Lori was heavily pregnant. It would have been a hard journey but it would have been worth it but now after all they had seen, after all the pipe dreams each turning to dust in his hands this was the best place for his people.

They had worked hard to build the prison into a community, growing their own crops, stocking up and fortifying the fences. It wasn't the same place that he had barrelled into all those months ago armed only with a lead pipe and his trusty gun, praying desperately that they had finally, _finally,_ found a safe haven after such a hard winter on the road. For the first time in a long time he was beginning to believe that there could be hope. Hope to rebuild some semblance of normality after what had felt like the longest, and hardest, year of his life. He guessed that he could not in good conscience rip the dreams away from this desperate woman, even if every bone in his body told him that her faith and hope was so unfortunately misplaced. Maybe over the time that she took to heal, they would exchange stories and she would come to realise the likely, albeit gutting, truth behind her futile dreams.

Before had made his decision whether or not to tell her the truth, she sighed deeply, turning away from their silence and avoiding their eyes, "I think I will go back to my cell for a lie down if you don't mind I suddenly feel exhausted."

Hershel placed his hand on Ricks arm almost as if he read his thoughts and shook his head slightly, "You need to rest, you need to regain your strength. We can always talk about this another time." He told her gently, earning a silent nod from her downcast head as she moved to the stairs.

"Charlotte, the men that you escaped from..." He asked reluctantly, an apology underlying his tone knowing that it would probably be the last thing she wanted to talk about, especially after having had to relive her nightmares. He had to know, he knew they were fortified but it still worried him that there were malevolent forces outside the fences, more than the walking dead, the unscrupulous living watching his safe haven and plotting to destroy it or take it from him. The Governor had taught them to fear the living more than the dead.

"They're dead," She replied in a hollow voice, she met his gaze unflinchingly, "there were five of them. Five of them including Zeke. There is no one looking for me because I killed them all."


End file.
